From The TimesJanuary 24, 2009
Our Week: Malia and Sasha Obama
According to Hugo Rifkind
Malia and Sasha Obama
Monday Our Mom reckons we ought to start writing an autobiography. Daddy had written two by the time he was 45, and Mom reckons that if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to hit 40 and not even be congressmen. That’s not what this is, though. This is an open letter. Two girls called Bush wrote us one. We don’t know much about the Bushes. Daddy says they’re stupid, bitter people, who cleave to guns and religion out of desperation. We’re not meant to talk about that, though.
We’re also not really meant to talk about the time Daddy dressed up in that kaftan, and Mom got that machinegun, and they stood in front of the mirror, giggling. Daddy says this is a new era of transparency, though, so we’ve decided that we can talk about anything we want.
Tuesday Today is the big day. We’ve been sent a lot of clothes. We’ve already got through most of them, though. This morning, while we were getting dressed, Daddy kept shouting: “Change! Change!” We hope you like the clothes we ended up in. Daddy said this was a change he could believe in. Mom said he was just practising his speech.
We’d never been on a train before. Trains are weird. We do not intend to go on one again. Mom says we’ll be meeting a lot of people today, and we are to be nice to everybody except for the creepy man in the wheelchair. We note, with interest, the continued nonarrival of the promised puppy. We keep telling Daddy we want a pitbull. Daddy keeps laughing. We do not intend to put up with this sort of thing for much longer. We have reminded him that all of these people have come to see us, not him, and if the puppy doesn’t turn up soon there will be trouble.
Wednesday We are most displeased with our father. We cannot believe he got the words wrong. We also cannot believe he didn’t tell us we could come in fancy dress. Mrs Clinton’s son Chelsea got to come as Kermit’s girlfriend, from The Muppets. We had to wear normal clothes right the way through.
We did meet one of the Bushes. He didn’t look like he did in the photo that came with the open letter. Same face, but no long blonde wig. He called us Salia and Masha, told us we could see his house from there, and then pretended to steal our noses. We asked the Secret Service Man to throw him out on the street and give him a beating, but Mom came along and said that we weren’t allowed to do that sort of thing until tomorrow.
Thursday Mom says we’re basically in charge of the world, now.
“We’re still a normal family,” said Daddy. “Sure we are,” said Mom, and then she did that thing with her eyes that she does when Daddy isn’t looking.
That thing where they glow. Mom says we can be Secretary of State, just as soon as they can get rid of Mrs Clinton.
We’ve been unpacking, and watching the video from last week’s Children’s Inaugural Ball. We met the Jonas Brothers, who are our favourite pop group. They promised that they would dedicate a song to both of us.
“You’d better,” we said, “or else we’ll have you sent to Guantánamo Bay.” The Jonas Brothers started laughing at this, but we kept staring at them until they stopped laughing again. We need a bit of practice at this, but Mom told us that she was very proud.
Friday Daddy has closed Guantánamo Bay. Mom said he had to, so we’re trying not to be cross.
Generally, the White House is pretty cool. Although it’s a big place, we’ve decided that we want to share a room. We fancy the big oval one, in the middle. Daddy says he needs it as his office, but we’re pretty sure we’ll be able to talk him around soon.
“We have noticed”, we said to him at lunch, “that you have still not yet provided the aforementioned puppy.” “I’m working on it,” said Daddy.
We asked the Secret Service Man to throw him out in the street. The Secret Service Man said that he is thinking about it.
Our Week: Malia and Sasha Obama
According to Hugo Rifkind
Malia and Sasha Obama
Monday Our Mom reckons we ought to start writing an autobiography. Daddy had written two by the time he was 45, and Mom reckons that if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to hit 40 and not even be congressmen. That’s not what this is, though. This is an open letter. Two girls called Bush wrote us one. We don’t know much about the Bushes. Daddy says they’re stupid, bitter people, who cleave to guns and religion out of desperation. We’re not meant to talk about that, though.
We’re also not really meant to talk about the time Daddy dressed up in that kaftan, and Mom got that machinegun, and they stood in front of the mirror, giggling. Daddy says this is a new era of transparency, though, so we’ve decided that we can talk about anything we want.
Tuesday Today is the big day. We’ve been sent a lot of clothes. We’ve already got through most of them, though. This morning, while we were getting dressed, Daddy kept shouting: “Change! Change!” We hope you like the clothes we ended up in. Daddy said this was a change he could believe in. Mom said he was just practising his speech.
We’d never been on a train before. Trains are weird. We do not intend to go on one again. Mom says we’ll be meeting a lot of people today, and we are to be nice to everybody except for the creepy man in the wheelchair. We note, with interest, the continued nonarrival of the promised puppy. We keep telling Daddy we want a pitbull. Daddy keeps laughing. We do not intend to put up with this sort of thing for much longer. We have reminded him that all of these people have come to see us, not him, and if the puppy doesn’t turn up soon there will be trouble.
Wednesday We are most displeased with our father. We cannot believe he got the words wrong. We also cannot believe he didn’t tell us we could come in fancy dress. Mrs Clinton’s son Chelsea got to come as Kermit’s girlfriend, from The Muppets. We had to wear normal clothes right the way through.
We did meet one of the Bushes. He didn’t look like he did in the photo that came with the open letter. Same face, but no long blonde wig. He called us Salia and Masha, told us we could see his house from there, and then pretended to steal our noses. We asked the Secret Service Man to throw him out on the street and give him a beating, but Mom came along and said that we weren’t allowed to do that sort of thing until tomorrow.
Thursday Mom says we’re basically in charge of the world, now.
“We’re still a normal family,” said Daddy. “Sure we are,” said Mom, and then she did that thing with her eyes that she does when Daddy isn’t looking.
That thing where they glow. Mom says we can be Secretary of State, just as soon as they can get rid of Mrs Clinton.
We’ve been unpacking, and watching the video from last week’s Children’s Inaugural Ball. We met the Jonas Brothers, who are our favourite pop group. They promised that they would dedicate a song to both of us.
“You’d better,” we said, “or else we’ll have you sent to Guantánamo Bay.” The Jonas Brothers started laughing at this, but we kept staring at them until they stopped laughing again. We need a bit of practice at this, but Mom told us that she was very proud.
Friday Daddy has closed Guantánamo Bay. Mom said he had to, so we’re trying not to be cross.
Generally, the White House is pretty cool. Although it’s a big place, we’ve decided that we want to share a room. We fancy the big oval one, in the middle. Daddy says he needs it as his office, but we’re pretty sure we’ll be able to talk him around soon.
“We have noticed”, we said to him at lunch, “that you have still not yet provided the aforementioned puppy.” “I’m working on it,” said Daddy.
We asked the Secret Service Man to throw him out in the street. The Secret Service Man said that he is thinking about it.
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